


maybe we could be the start of something

by zoeyclarke



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Meetings, Gay Panic, One Shot, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Trapped In Elevator, just some silly fluff and banter to make your day better, owen makes a cameo because of course he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyclarke/pseuds/zoeyclarke
Summary: It’s true that Dani has been falling in love with strangers for years, ever since before she came out. But fixating on a short-tempered Brit who she got trapped in an elevator with for all of fifteen minutes is not the ideal next step of Dani’s escape plan.(Or: During a layover at the airport, Dani meets a girl who just might understand her like no one else.)
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 22
Kudos: 181





	maybe we could be the start of something

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy i'm back! i didn't mean for these one-shots i'm writing to get so long, so i'm not sure what's happening. but here, have another 9k of damie nonsense. and as always, thanks for the love on my other stuff, you guys are freakin' awesome <3
> 
> title taken from "start of time" by gabrielle aplin, and lyrics in story from "baby" by anna of the north.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your flight has been delayed.”

No. Dani did  _ not  _ just run halfway across the airport to hear those words. Still a bit short on oxygen after that marathon sprint, she takes in a shaky breath and fixes a pleading gaze on the airline clerk. “Okay...  _ please  _ tell me you’re joking right now.”

The clerk simply stares at her, unamused. “No, ma’am. They’re forecasting heavy snow, so all outgoing flights have been delayed for at least two hours due to poor visibility.” Then he points an apathetic finger toward the nearby windows, indicating the swirling storm building a battalion of ferocious flakes outside. Dani deflates.  _ Oh, no.  _

Having no choice but to admit defeat, she turns away from the help desk, heaving her suitcase behind her. Her entire life is packed into it— or, at least, every part of Dani’s life worth bringing along: makeup and hair accessories in the zippered pouches, two rolled-up pairs of jeans, enough shirts to fit in a blindly-grabbed handful, pairs of socks crammed in every corner, a couple necklaces, and a phone charger.

However, before Dani can fully retreat with her tail between her legs, she’s nearly flattened by the next customer in line behind her. The young woman is around Dani’s age, and that’s all Dani can observe about her while stumbling out of the peeved stranger’s way. Dani watches as she launches herself forward like a dart closing in on the bullseye, her average stature escalated by the impressively seismic volume of her voice.

“So you’re telling me it’ll be at least  _ two hours  _ before I can escape from the clutches of this  _ wretched  _ country?” the woman demands, very loud and  _ very  _ British. Dani winces, feeling likewise— though perhaps not to  _ quite  _ the same extent. She can’t tear her gaze away, much too curious to see how the impassive clerk will respond to this more direct attack.

“The weather is out of my control, ma’am. The best I can do for you right now is give you an estimate of two to three hours until operations resume. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

_ “Three  _ hours?” British Bomb explodes. But when the bored clerk recites the tried and true  _ “I can help the next customer in line,”  _ she doesn’t fight it, instead turning back around and stomping past Dani. This time Dani catches a better glimpse of her face, but only because the woman seeks a brief second of eye contact. For a moment Dani assumes it’s just that awkward look sometimes exchanged with strangers in public, a fragment of a glance shared between two people in equally shitty circumstances. But then the woman mumbles, “Sorry I almost hit you.” After another blink, she’s gone, almost as if she’d never been there at all and Dani imagined the whole encounter.

For a short while, Dani lets herself succumb to gay panic. Her heart does that thing where it trips over itself, and she kind of forgets where she is. But then someone snaps at her to get out of the way, and she’s dropped back into the center of disorientating reality. She scurries over to a spot away from the crowd. Her eyes land on the overhead screen displaying her flight information, and sure enough, there’s the dreaded word  _ “DELAYED”  _ in big red text.

Dani slumps against a pillar and sighs. She was supposed to be on the ground in New York for all of thirty minutes. Her flight from Des Moines connected here, where she was meant to switch planes for the second leg of her trip. She should’ve known that running away— fleeing the country like a fugitive, more like— was a bit of a rash decision. Maybe she should process it some more, since her escape is currently being stalled by mother nature.

In fact, maybe this delay is a sign. Maybe she’s making a mistake. Her eyes drift back over to the help desk for a moment, considering buying a ticket back to Iowa. And yet...

No. It wouldn’t feel right. If Dani’s learned anything over the past year, it’s that time only ever wants to march forward. The life she lived back there, a thousand miles and half a country away, is the past. Going back now would be like defying the natural progression of time. The destination she has planned, the one listed under  _ CLAYTON, DANIELLE  _ on the paper ticket clutched in her hand, is what’s next for her. It’s too late for Dani to fold over the blanket and tuck herself back into the suffocating role of doting wife and full-time faker. She  _ can’t _ go back. And hopefully by the time she  _ does _ board the plane leaving New York, she’ll have convinced herself that she  _ won’t  _ go back.

With that in mind, Dani gathers her things and walks away from her terminal. She hadn’t expected the chance to see more of JFK Airport, but now that she has the opportunity, she might as well settle in and have dinner somewhere.

The airport is intimidatingly spacious, and Dani is surprised it still feels that way at all considering the vast number of people swarming through it. Mutual irritation hangs heavy in the air, and though Dani is sympathetic to it, she would rather hold her breath than inhale the sour mood. She slips away from all the glares and sighs and disgruntled voices by seeking temporary refuge in a back corner of one of those newsstand stores. 

All the money that her family didn’t have when she was a kid is now being poured into this one-way trip, so until today, Dani had never been in an airport before. She’d soon discovered that there is a fairly straightforward formula to them; the unpredictable part, however, are the travelers themselves. Some people leave or reunite with loved ones here, while others travel alone. Most people will either return to somewhere familiar, or they will land in a place foreign to them. And to some— like Dani— a city can be both strange  _ and _ home. But she hasn’t made it to that place quite yet. 

The store is blissfully quiet, replacing all those flashing screens out in the terminal with glossy magazine covers and neon-colored packages of trail mix and gummy candy. Predicting that she’ll be tired of staring at her phone within a few hours, Dani peruses the book selection. She ends up choosing a paperback novel with a monochromatic cover. Rather than judging it by the blurb on the back, Dani cracks it open and reads through the praise given by other authors and literary critics. It’s a scary thing to be perceived, she thinks. Being known by someone is like taking a poison in small doses; it’s just a matter of building up an immunity to it.

Dani buys the book, pretending not to notice how much her wallet has thinned. She hesitates at the edge of the store, then makes a beeline for a nearby elevator. Hopefully a different floor will be a little quieter than this one. 

While cutting across the stream of travelers, she nearly runs into three different people  _ and  _ a service dog. She barely makes it to the elevator in time, yelling out a strained “Wait!” as if it’s controlled by voice commands. Dani falls forward and thrusts out an arm to stop the doors from closing. 

From within, there’s a heavy sigh and something that sounds like a grumbled curse. Dani grits her teeth and squeezes onto the elevator, keeping her eyes glued to her feet. Amazingly, there’s only one other person on board, but anxiety blocks Dani from being able to glance up at their face. She shuffles into the opposite corner from them and jabs at the down button that had already been selected.

The elevator shudders into movement, slow and steady as if it’s been woken from a long hibernation. Dani spends the next ten seconds hugging herself and staring at the floor, until curiosity gets the better of her. Her eyes stray over to the other person, starting at their feet and moving upward: scuffed chucks, jeans, gray hoodie under a flannel jacket, and a beat-up duffel hanging off one shoulder. When Dani actually _recognizes_ the face that completes this ensemble, she nearly loses her balance. Or maybe she stumbles because the elevator also happens to jerk at that moment, letting out a prolonged, worrisome groan before coming to a full stop... in between floors.

_ Oh no. _

“Aw, fuck,” her elevator companion says at the same time Dani mumbles, “This can’t be happening.”

From her left, there’s a dull laugh. “Oh, it’s happening, alright.” Angry British Stranger rakes a hand through her curls, then pops out one of her earbuds, allowing loud alt rock to leak out. She has the audacity to  _ wink  _ at Dani as she strides over and impatiently taps the emergency help button. “Because this day  _ can  _ possibly get  _ any  _ worse,” she continues during a relentless assault on the help button, “it’s decided to”— she starts smacking the button even harder, using her entire hand in a way that must be painful—  _ “test. Me. Even. More!”  _

Alarmed by the prospect of the help button actually  _ breaking  _ under the intense force being applied to it, Dani surges forward and, before she can think it through, grabs the stranger’s wrist to stop her.

“What are you—” Ignoring her protest, Dani gently presses the button once. That is what finally triggers a voice to crackle through the emergency communication system. The stranger rolls her eyes and steps back, tugging herself free from Dani’s loose grip. Dani notices that the woman rubs her hand pointedly. Part of her wonders if that has anything to do with the flames crawling up her own arm from the brief contact.

_ “We’ve received your notice for help. The elevator should be moving again within the next twenty minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience.”  _ The person sounds less than sympathetic to their plight, and it only makes the dread scraping at Dani’s stomach grow sharper.

“Ah, fuck me,” the stranger grunts. 

_ Uhh, what did she just say?  _ Dani whirls to face her, but the Brit just flashes her palms in mock surrender.

“Oh, you’re offended? So very sorry, I’ll try to curb my potty mouth.” 

Dani says nothing, instead slumping against the farthest wall from her and flipping idly through her book. Meanwhile, her unwilling companion taps through her phone, cursing the lack of internet connection while mumbling, “Ugh, Stevie’s gonna hate me. Fuck this place. Fuck this country. Fuck it all.” Dani briefly wonders who Stevie is, before she realizes she shouldn’t  _ care  _ who Stevie is.

Five minutes pass in tense silence, and Dani is finally starting to relax, until her new acquaintance decides to ruffle her feathers again. “So where’re you headed?”

All Dani does is peer over at her from behind her book, but it’s enough to prompt the other woman to scoff.

“A’ight, fine, maybe that’s prying— I mean, we  _ are  _ in an airport, but...” She trails off, glancing away from Dani for a second as she slides lower against the wall. “S’pose I should ask your name first. I’m Jamie.” She sticks out a hand, and there’s an awkward amount of space between Jamie’s fingertips and the farthest Dani can reach. Still, she thinks of how it felt when she grabbed Jamie’s wrist a few minutes ago, and she kind of wants to touch her again. Even just a brush of skin would suffice, and a handshake offers even more than that. So Dani accepts the invitation, leaning forward so she can link her hand with Jamie’s more firmly than before.

“Dani,” she says softly, then tilts her head. “Funny, you look like a Jamie.”

“Do I?” Jamie says. They both laugh. “Hopefully that can be taken as a compliment.”

It takes a second for Dani to realize they’re still holding hands; she gulps and retracts her hand, pressing it into the wall behind her back. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I’ve taught a couple of kids named Jamie over the years, and they’re always a bit of a handful. But in an  _ endearing  _ way, you know?”

Jamie narrows her eyes so much, it almost looks like she’s winking again. “An endearing handful, eh? I’ll take it. Thanks, Ms. Dani the Teacher. Assuming that’s what you are.”

“Yep. Teacher, private tutor, anything along those lines. What do you do?” 

But right when Jamie opens her mouth to respond, the elevator jerks, and they both startle, preparing for it to resume its descent. Nothing else happens, however, and nerves prickle between each of Dani’s vertebrae. The hand that isn’t pinned behind her back loses its grasp on the book, and it topples to the floor, its cheaply-bound spine cracking against the linoleum. Now Dani’s left hand joins her right, and she leans all her weight onto them until they’re numb and fizzing. This elevator is small, so unnecessarily,  _ exceedingly  _ small all of a sudden. When just a moment before there had been acres of open air between her and Jamie, there is now nothing but the two of them: wavy hair and restless hands and a set of overly observant green eyes.

“You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you?” Jamie asks.

Dani stares at the peeling advertisement on the inside of the elevator doors, willing her body to flatten like a pancake and squeeze in between them. Or, hell, the very least her body could do is stop sweating like a teenage boy.  _ Why oh why did I not take the escalator?  _ “Yeah,” she breathes. “I- I guess I forgot how bad I can get.” Her fingers huddle together to make fists, but the repeated squeezing motions don’t do much to soothe her. Fuck, it’s hot in here. She can actually feel Jamie’s breaths grazing her skin, pluming around her like cigarette smoke. Or maybe that’s just her imagination.

Jamie moves cautiously closer to her, and, well, that isn’t exactly solving the sweating problem. All she says is, “Hey, it’ll be okay. They’re getting us out of here. We just gotta hang on.” She offers a tentative smile, which does nothing and everything to calm Dani’s anxiety, then holds out the spare earbud she’d popped out a few minutes ago. “Wanna listen to some music? I know it makes me feel better.”

Dani stares at her as she nods, and she stares at her as she accepts the earbud, and she still stares at her when she puts it in her left ear and a vaguely familiar song filters through her swimming brain.

_ Just tell me what you need, dear _

_ And baby, that’s what I’ll do _

_ You make my heart start beating in my chest _

_ Baby, hold tight _

_ You make my heart start beating in my chest _

_ Baby, hold tight _

Neither of them notice when the elevator gives another jolt, and they also don’t notice when it actually begins moving this time. The doors roll open, splitting that healthcare ad in half, and a cluster of travelers stand on the other side, buzzing impatiently as they wait for Dani and Jamie to clear out. Jamie’s lips and eyes are the only things Dani can comprehend in the chaos, and they’re the only things Dani sees even after Jamie bids her a hurried goodbye. But in making her escape, she leaves something behind. 

An earbud dangles among the pale wisps fraying from Dani’s ponytail. Her fingers close around it, and for a split second it’s like she’s in a trance.

* * *

So. Dani has a pair of accidental free earbuds now. Cool, cool.  _ And  _ there was just an announcement that all flights have been cancelled until further notice due to inclement weather. Great.  _ Awesome.  _

She feels bad, though, because she highly doubts Jamie wanted to just  _ give  _ Dani her cherished earbuds. From the approximately twenty or so minutes Dani has known her (including those thirty seconds at the help desk), Jamie seems like the kind of person to cherish earbuds. After all, they  _ are _ the best tools for shutting oneself out from the rest of the world. And, hell, maybe that’s what Dani really needs. So she decides to make the most out of them, because chances are she’ll never see Jamie or Jamie’s eyes or Jamie’s smirk or Jamie’s anything ever again.  _ I mean, this is a huge place. What are the odds, right?  _

But the faintest hope still clings to Dani’s thoughts like seaweed to driftwood. It’s impossible to ignore, but she’s going to try her hardest anyway. So she plugs the earbuds into her phone and flips on a loud playlist, because quiet playlists don’t really do much good in airports.

Dani finds a less crowded restaurant, one of those pub-like places with cringey theming, and tucks herself into a small two-person booth in the back corner. She does all this while trying  _ not _ to wonder why Jamie reacted so strangely and just  _ left  _ like that. But by the time she’s settled in and her playlist has shifted to a pulsing Aly & AJ bop, she has lost the battle with her brain and is, indeed, wondering a  _ lot  _ about why Jamie acted that way. 

There’s no reason for Jamie Whatsherlastname to be living rent free in Dani’s mind, except for the obvious explanation: she was— is— decently attractive. Okay, fine, _very_ attractive. Dani can’t fight what her brain and body have already made abundantly clear to her: when Jamie was in such close proximity to her in that elevator, Dani had felt something _new._

She orders a salad which she picks at for an hour, before deciding that alcohol might be the better choice to push those unsavory thoughts out of her head. It’s true that Dani has been falling in love with strangers for years, ever since before she came out. But fixating on a short-tempered Brit who she got trapped in an elevator with for all of fifteen minutes is  _ not  _ the ideal next step of Dani’s escape plan.  _ Even  _ if said Brit has a really nice laugh. And cool shoes.  _ Shit,  _ why didn’t Dani compliment her shoes?

She asks for the check, and ten minutes later Dani is back out in the fray, dodging groups of people mumbling bitterly about the walls of red  _ “CANCELLED”  _ notices now listed on all the flight information screens. It’s close to seven o’clock, and from what Dani can tell when she squints through the windows, the snow is continuing to pile up outside. She may have gotten out of that elevator, but she’s still trapped.

Dani returns upstairs and parks herself at the bar in a different low-rent airport pub. She orders herself a tall, frosty glass and has barely taken her first sip when there’s a familiar voice from her right.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Dani turns so quickly, her elbow nearly knocks her beer glass clean off the counter. Sitting just a couple stools away, sure as the snow falling outside, is Jamie, who is really starting to feel less and less like a stranger. (Who cares if Dani barely knows a thing about her besides her first name?  _ Wanting  _ to know more about Jamie deserves her an upgrade from “stranger” status, right?)

Dani can’t stop the delighted laugh that tumbles out. “Wow,” she says.  _ “How _ does this keep happening?”

“I couldn’t tell ya. Guess the airport gods have it out for us,” Jamie chuckles. There’s a pause as both teeter on the edge of their stools, trying to communicate who should be the one to move. Jamie ends up jumping down first, indicating the open spot to Dani’s right. “Uh, may I?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” Dani can’t be sure  _ why _ she’s surprised that Jamie is making the exact move she had been considering herself. Still, she treats the reunion like a gift, grinning as Jamie slides her half-empty glass down the counter until it clinks with Dani’s, perhaps unintentionally. Then she drops onto the stool next to her, and holy  _ shit,  _ is she close, or is Dani’s depth perception woefully broken? Jamie’s even closer than when they were listening to music in the elevator. Speaking of which... “By the way, you— you left your earbuds, um...” Dani twists around to grab her bag, extracting the neatly coiled earbuds from where she’d kept them safe in an inner pocket. “Here.”

Jamie takes them tentatively, as if they’re not actually hers. “You sure?”

“Well yeah, they’re... yours. I can’t just steal them.”

“Technically you could’ve.” Jamie shrugs and pockets the earbuds. Dani can’t tell if it’s the look on her own face that tugs the corner of Jamie’s mouth upward, but the fact that it  _ might  _ be because of her only makes her heart beat faster.

They’re lulled into silence for a minute. Dani wipes her palms on her leggings, trying to convince herself that the dampness is due to the condensation on her beer glass and  _ not  _ from nervous sweats. Behind them, the airport continues to bustle along. A few more people join them at the bar and also order large glasses, clearly prepared to settle in for the long haul.

“So, Teach, what are you reading?” Jamie asks around the rim of her glass, reaching over to examine Dani’s book. It falls open where Dani stuck in the receipt for it, which is now being used as an improvised bookmark. Jamie’s eyes skim over the pages. “Hm. Must be a real page-turner, since you’re...” She leans in closer, and Dani’s heart slams. “... a whole eleven pages in.”

Dani snorts. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been distracted by more interesting things.”

“Interesting things? In this boring little fake pub?” Jamie pulls back to take another swig, allowing Dani to breathe normally again (for now).

“Hey,” Dani giggles. “It  _ may  _ be boring and fake, but at least it’s got decent beer.  _ And  _ they even carded me, which I guess should be flattering, since I haven’t been carded for a few years now.”

Jamie nods sagely, weaving her fingers together under her chin. “You bring up some good points.” She then swirls around the dregs of amber liquid in her glass. “The beer  _ is  _ drinkable. S’pose that’s why I drank all of it.” She drains the glass and summons the bartender for another. Oddly, when she places her order, she asks for not one but  _ two  _ more. And when the bartender returns, he places one of the pints in front of Dani. By instinct, she thanks him politely, and waits for him to walk away before she starts to correct his mistake. 

“No, no,” Jamie says when Dani nudges the glass her way. “That’s yours. On me.”

Dani blinks. “But I haven’t even finished my first one yet.”

Jamie does that thing— oh no, Dani has been around her enough to notice particular  _ things  _ she does— where she tilts her head and smirk-winks at her. “Have you got anywhere to be?”

At least Dani knows when to admit defeat. “Touché.” 

“All honesty, though, I’ll drink it if you don’t want it. No harm, no foul.” Jamie takes a long sip, thinking. “And now I’d like to ask that question again, but non-rhetorically. If you’re not opposed, of course.”

Dani looks at her hands, then back at her companion. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess the weather has given me a little more time to figure out where ‘anywhere’ is. All I know is that it’s not where I came from.” Again her eyes flick to her hands, and she  _ swears  _ she can still see the faintest tan line where a gold band used to sit on her left ring finger. If she closes her eyes, she can still feel its weight too, like the anchor it was. Dani wonders where it is now.

Jamie’s voice slices into her memories, a welcome intrusion. “Really, though, where are you supposed to be flying right now?”

Now it’s Dani’s turn to peer at Jamie over the rim of her glass. “Somewhere far away from here,” she teases, but just when she’s about to elaborate, she notices Jamie’s phone light up on the counter. The screen stays on long enough for Dani’s inquisitive eyes to snag on a couple of names: a text from someone called  _ Becca  _ who is saying something about  _ Stevie— _ huh, that same name again.

Jamie picks up her phone and scans the message. She mumbles something indistinct, and her fingers are immediately a blur over the keyboard as she types out a response. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she says after a few seconds. Her shoulders lift up while her mouth turns down into a grimace. “Girl troubles, y’know how it is.” There’s a beat, and Jamie catches Dani’s eyes, so subtle that the meaning nearly flies over Dani’s head. “You...  _ do  _ know, right?”

“Yeah,” Dani says way too quickly. She’s still kind of focused on the fact that Stevie or Becca or whoever is _ the girl _ in Jamie’s life. It’s just Dani’s luck that she gets attached to the airport acquaintance/elevator ally/bar buddy who happens to be taken.

“Cool, cool.” Jamie drums her fingernails on the bartop a couple times. The repeated rhythm provides an odd comfort for Dani. It makes her think of what she had always hoped to find in Eddie: spontaneous slivers of solace found in the smallest of actions. Like a thread of consolation loosely woven between fleeting glances, or a drop of relief squeezed out of a one-armed hug. 

She never found those things, though, and it became too much— or rather, too  _ little—  _ to live with. Like the wrong chemicals mixed together, it eventually blew up into a heartbreakingly contemptuous separation. He served her the papers via a mutual friend who had clearly sided with him, and Dani dutifully played her role in the legal proceedings, feeling like a juror observing her own trial. He could no longer bear to look at her, so those fleeting glances became extinct, and the hugs became stiff handshakes, so unnatural for two people who had shared nearly their entire lives with each other. Eddie had held almost every piece of Dani in his hands—  _ almost every piece.  _ The last time Dani saw him before he walked out of her life forever, he could only shake his head, stare at the wall behind her, and ask brokenly,  _ “Why didn’t you just tell me about it? You— you could’ve just  _ told  _ me, Danielle.”  _

Now Dani stares at a teardrop of condensation sliding down her beer glass, and she knows that she  _ couldn’t _ have just told him. For her, it wasn’t as easy as flipping a switch; her process was more like a Rube Goldberg contraption. She should’ve said something sooner, maybe, before the vows and talks of a future. But no matter what she did, she still would’ve hurt him eventually, still would’ve carved scars into his image of his best friend.

She can feel Jamie’s eyes on her, gazing at her in a way that is close to unfamiliar, like a dream Dani just woke up from and is minutes away from forgetting. And one day it’ll be just a distant memory, she’s sure. But for now, she can bask in it. 

“I’m glad you know.” Jamie’s voice pulls Dani back to the present (hell, she’ll be lucky if she’s able to drag her wandering mind with her onto the flight out of here). Dani glances over at her. Jamie’s grin is cautious but genuine.

_ But you’re spoken for, aren’t you? You have someone back home.  _ That’s all Dani wants to say, but instead she says quite literally the  _ most _ opposite and  _ least  _ helpful thing instead. Dani  _ really  _ can’t afford to spiral right now. But as it turns out, alcohol doesn’t mix well with gay panic. “I- I was married, actually,” she blurts out.

“Oh?” Jamie’s eyebrows inch toward her hairline. 

Well, Dani has gotten this far. To hell with treading lightly. “Yeah, it... it was before I really accepted... well, me. I tried to squeeze myself into this perfect mold that was just... not  _ me  _ at all. But I’m from a small town, and not conforming to their standards means...” She trails off, and Jamie fills in the blank for her, drawing her finger across her neck. “Basically, yeah.” Dani chuckles darkly, playing with a lock of hair. “So now here I am, divorced before age thirty, with absolutely zero direction in my life.”  _ Zero direction except forward, where the path is shrouded in mist. _

Jamie huffs out a laugh, partaking in the invitation of shared misery that Dani has extended. “I could say the same thing. Well, minus the being divorced part. But I  _ do  _ have more than my fair share of rough breakups and exes who expected more of me, so. S’pose we might at least be in neighboring boats.”

All of Dani’s valid concerns about sharing a huge chunk of her life story with a near-stranger in an airport bar are still there, but they’re fighting to be noticed. It’s pretty crazy, but then again, Dani hasn’t been friends with logic for some time now.

“Okay, so... you know that I’m a teacher. What is it you do?”

Jamie drums those melodic fingers on the side of her glass. “Well, I’ve worn many hats, but last time I checked, I was a florist...”

“Ooh, that’s nice!”

“... whose shop was taken by the bank.”

Dani winces. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Jamie waves her sympathy away. “That’s life. But I needed money, so I flew out here to do a landscaping job for some rich bloke up in Albany. Now that job’s done, so I’m going back to where it all began... and ended.”

Right then, Jamie’s phone comes to life again. Dani succeeds in not snooping this time, but Jamie breaks the secret to her anyway, chuckling softly as she reads the screen. “Stevie, you cheeky bastard...”

Dani wants to be friends with her. She  _ should  _ just be friends with her, and she  _ should  _ just be happy with that. But lightning strikes Dani’s heart once again, and like a reflex she clumsily hops down from her stool. She twists around to check over her shoulder and— yeah, those two pint glasses are dry. When did that happen?

Whatever, she’ll just have to be gay, yearning,  _ and  _ drunk tonight. Hopefully she can pack all three into her itinerary.

Before Jamie can ask what’s going on, Dani is already mumbling something that isn’t even an excuse. “I, uh, I should go. It was nice talking to you.” She gathers up her things, slapping some cash on the counter. “And thanks for the drink.”

Jamie frowns, watching her erratic movements. “Oh. I... I really liked talking to you, too, Dani. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yeah, yep, all good over here,” Dani says, breathless. She can hold her alcohol decently; it just blurs the edges of her motor skills. “Nice meeting you, Jamie... whatever-your-last-name-is.”

“Taylor.”

“What?”

“My last name. It’s Taylor,” Jamie clarifies. She stands from her seat, gently taking hold of one of the straps on Dani’s bag and guiding it onto her shoulder for her. “What do you reckon are the odds of us running into each other again, Dani the Teacher?”

_ Don’t make me calculate the odds. Then I’ll never leave.  _ Dani hesitates, hiding a nervous titter behind the hand she uses to brush hair behind her ear. The only response that comes to mind is something that’s been bothering her for a while now, and it’s on the launching pad before she can stop it. “I forgot to say this earlier, but, um, I like your shoes.” 

Jamie blinks at her, amused. “Cheers, Dani.”

Dani’s parting gift to Jamie is a shaky smile, and then she returns to the busy terminal. Only five small steps would take her back into the little world they shared in that lame pub. Only five. Six. Eight. Twelve. But Dani had promised herself she wouldn’t retrace her steps.

* * *

Before nightfall, time had been moving along at a crawl, but suddenly it’s nearing eleven o’clock. Snow is still falling, flights are still postponed, and Jamie is still making herself at home in Dani’s mind.

By now Dani has returned to her assigned corner of the airport, although the flight information screen hasn’t changed, of course. It hasn’t matched the original times printed on her paper ticket in hours, so Dani crumples it up and tosses it in a trash can as she trudges past it. She has everything she needs on her phone, anyway.

She’d choked down something from McDonald’s to sober herself up a bit, but now that almost every store and restaurant has closed for the night, she has no choice but to pick which area of uncomfortable plastic chairs she should set up camp in. She can’t afford a hotel, nor does she really have a way to get to one, so here in this cursed airport she remains. Maybe if she’s lucky, she’ll be able to occupy an actual _ chair _ and not just a few feet of cold, hard, dirty floor space. Dani continues moving along, keeping her eyes peeled for a gap of free space between the endless groups of exhausted, grouchy travelers.

She is on the verge of giving up— perhaps she can hang upside down from the ceiling and sleep like a bat— when she hears her name, spoken with sparks in an irresistibly familiar accent.

Dani spins around wildly, searching for someone who has obviously spotted her first. Finally, her eyes catch on a flannel jacket and a raised hand, and Dani charges over to meet her, her aching feet dragging like bricks.

“Hey, stranger,” Dani says. Despite her crushing fatigue, she can’t stop the smile that creeps onto her face.

“Now wait, haven’t we met before?” Jamie teases, standing from the chair she has miraculously claimed. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Teach. Here, sit awhile. I’m sure you’re beat.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Dani insists. Jamie, however, is more stubborn, and her only response is a hard stare and crossed arms. “Really,” Dani tries again, but the effort is futile. With a light sigh, she all but collapses into the seat.

Satisfied, Jamie drops onto the floor, stretching her legs out before folding and hugging them to her chest. “It’s no bed, nor mattress, nor even an  _ air  _ mattress. But I find it... acceptable.”

Dani laughs weakly. She wonders if she’ll ever be too tired to laugh around Jamie. “If I close my eyes, I can  _ almost  _ feel the memory foam.” She slouches down until her head is resting on the back of the seat. “I just need a few more minutes, then I’ll get off, I promise.”

“Stop it. Your butt is staying on that seat, Dani. I’ve staked my claim on it, so I can do  _ whatever  _ I want with it, up to and including giving it to you. I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“How about we switch every half-hour?” Dani suggests.

Jamie shrugs, playing idly with the cuffs on her jeans. “If we’re not asleep.” She glances up, but Dani is already halfway gone; Jamie is just a hazy, smirking image floating in her vision. “Guess we’re stuck with each other, huh?”

_ Maybe it’s fate.  _ But out loud, all Dani replies with is a drowsy smile. She lets go of her next breath, and it’s the exhale that pulls her into sleep.

* * *

Dani opens her eyes to a deserted airport. She sits up abruptly, wincing when a sharp cramp bites into her neck. Her eyes dart around, but there’s nobody. All the previously occupied seats are empty. The terminal is a ghost town, all the stores and food places open but unmanned.

Dani slowly rises to her feet. “Jamie?” she calls, relieved that she at least knows the name of one other person in this vast place. But even that goes unanswered. She then notices that her luggage— her entire life packed into two bags— is gone, but she also realizes that she doesn’t really care.

She walks down the wide hallway, then turns into a different hall that’s less populated with storefronts. She walks for ten minutes, or maybe an hour. Time passes like sand flowing in an hourglass.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Dani whirls around. She’s here. Jamie’s here, standing at the other end of the hall. “You’re here,” Dani whispers.

“Catch me if you can, Teach.” Jamie takes off running, and instantly Dani is after her, propelled forward by a surge of adrenaline that has her toes stepping on Jamie’s heels in no time.

Jamie leads and Dani follows. They’re sprinting through the vacant airport, open air roaring past tham. Dani’s choking on laughter, and Jamie’s yelling something she can’t hear. And then Jamie is grabbing Dani’s arm, holding onto it like a lifeline, and yanking her into a utility closet. Something crashes, and rolls of toilet paper flutter down from a high shelf, industrial white streamers. The wheels on a mop bucket whine as Jamie kicks it out of their way. And then she’s kissing Dani, kissing her like it’s the only thing in the world they have left to do, the last item to check off of a long bucket list.

For Dani, it’s a release. She whimpers long and soft, grasping for every molecule of Jamie that she can reach. A loop of dark hair, a corner of flannel. Jamie is gentle at first, lips grazing, but her breath is hot enough to scald Dani’s skin, and it doesn’t take long for things to intensify. Dani’s spine is buried in the wall, and any coherent thoughts are miles away, all the way back in Iowa, probably. The lighting in the closet is dim, and the space— if it even  _ deserves  _ to be called space, since it seems like they’re taking up every spare inch with their bodies and feelings— is confined, but Dani doesn’t hear any alarm bells in her subconscious. She’s not trapped; she’s safe. And when she kisses Jamie’s neck, she feels free.

* * *

“Excuse me, miss.”

There’s a hand on Dani’s shoulder, shaking gently until she’s dragged back to real life. She freezes at first, trying to remember how she got here, then relaxes when Jamie’s face appears in her vision. Her accidental acquaintance is crouched in front of her, pulling belongings into her overstuffed duffel, the grimy canvas reluctantly stretching to allow more items. After another few seconds, Dani is able to piece together that the hand that woke her was Jamie’s, but the voice belongs to one of the airline workers currently going around the waiting area and waking people.

She clears the gunk out of her throat, sliding up into an awkwardly hunched sitting position. She’s still in the chair after who knows how many hours, and her back hurts like a bitch (almost as if she was, in actuality, pressed against a wall in a utility closet). But it can’t be nearly as bad as the pain Jamie must feel after being passed out on the airport floor. Guilt floods Dani’s senses, and she starts to mumble out a profuse apology when Jamie says, without looking up from her bag, “We ought to get going.”

“What...” Dani coughs. “What’s happening?”

“Snow’s still bad, so flights are gonna be grounded for who knows how long,” Jamie explains. She offers Dani a half-empty plastic water bottle, which she accepts with a grateful, albeit still confused, smile. “Airline said they’re gonna shuttle people to a hotel next door, since some roads have been semi-cleared.”

“Oh.” Dani takes a drink, then twists the cap back onto the bottle and hands it over. She turns to check out the window, where sure enough, it still looks like a near whiteout. Actually, the sun hasn’t risen yet, so the whiteout is more like a “gray-out” with the inky night sky behind it. “Uh, what time is it?”

Jamie pauses, eyes steady on Dani while she stretches the stiffness out of her arms, neck, and back. Dani’s face heats up, but at the same time, she doesn’t  _ dislike  _ the attention. She stretches herself a  _ liiiiittle  _ further so that her shirt rides up, exposing a strip of lean stomach above the waistband of her leggings. But then the reminder of that Stevie girl, that important someone who Jamie has back wherever her home is, crushes Dani’s bravery. So she slumps back down as Jamie replies, “It’s almost two AM. So  _ technically  _ I can tell you g’morning, though maybe good it’s-too-fucking-early morning is a  _ bit  _ more appropriate.”

Dani giggles as she tightens her ponytail. “Good it’s-too-fucking-early morning to you too, Jamie.”

After another couple minutes, they have all their stuff gathered, and they follow the sleep-deprived crowd to the shuttle. The ride is subdued and only a little perilous, but it doesn’t last any more than five minutes. The entire time Dani stays close by Jamie’s side like they  _ have  _ known each other longer than twelve hours. Dani also spends a solid minute staring at Jamie’s hand, which is situated on  _ Jamie’s  _ thigh, and she wonders how it would feel if Jamie’s hand moved a few inches over to rest on  _ Dani’s  _ thigh instead. Then she wonders what it would be like to weave their fingers together on top of that. But Dani forces herself to recoil at the thought. It’s not like she wants to make out with Jamie on this hot, smelly bus in front of fifty strangers. That would be...  _ terrible.  _ So, well... she can think about her dream instead. This is fine.

The daydream comes to a screeching halt when they get to the hotel, however. While people begin to form a ragged line to receive their room keys, Dani looks at Jamie. “So I guess this is goodbye... for now.”

“Yeah, I bet we’ll run into each other again. We seem to have a habit of doing that.” Jamie winks at her as they find a place in the grumbling line. “You should buy a lottery ticket, Dani. Your luck  _ must  _ be looking up if you’ve been seeing so much of  _ this,”  _ she adds, gesturing at herself. Dani snorts.

A concierge who looks equally as grumpy as all of the travelers announces in a gravelly voice, “Attention, everybody! We’re already very booked up, so we will be enacting a strict one-party-per-room rule. No exceptions.”

“That’s what we get when the airline pays for our rooms,” Jamie remarks. “If I get hypothermia hiking back to the airport, I’m suing.”

But when they reach the front desk, the worker hands them keycards to the same room before shooing them away. Dani doesn’t realize at first, so she stumbles when Jamie’s hand catches on the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Excuse me,” Jamie says. Her tone is tense, but also wildly different from the first time Dani heard her voice at the help desk that afternoon. “I think you’re mistaken, she and I aren’t one party.”

The worker raises her brows. “You two are traveling separately?”

“Yes,” Jamie answers, the trench between her brows deepening. “Is that so hard to understand?”

One of the airline workers standing nearby steps in, a look of strange amusement on his face. “You’re kidding.”

Jamie’s features have now hardened into stone.  _ “No,  _ I’m not.”

“So let me get this straight: you guys  _ aren’t  _ a couple?” the concierge asks.

The airline guy elbows the hotel worker. “I don’t think there’s anything  _ straight  _ about this situation.”

Dani doesn’t need a mirror to know that her cheeks are scarlet. Meanwhile, Jamie’s ears are the only part of her that are red, and they could easily be accompanied by raging steam. “Are you actually being serious? Or has every last person here gone mad, _Owen?”_ Jamie snaps, reading off the guy’s name tag.

The airline employee lifts his palms in surrender and resumes a businesslike tone. “Forgive me, miss. I honestly thought you two were a couple. When I woke you up, you were curled on the floor hugging one of her legs, and you’ve been together this entire time since. I apologize for assuming.”

Something shifts in Dani when she hears that.  _ She was... hugging... my  _ leg? 

Now Jamie could be Dani’s own real-life mirror, because a blush has appeared in full force on her face too. Dani swallows a chuckle and speaks up before her companion tears Owen a new one. “Actually, um, since it’s really booked up... I don’t mind sharing a room.” Dani’s eyes flash over to Jamie’s, nerves prickling under her skin. “If... that’s okay with  _ you,  _ of course.”

There’s a long pause during which Dani can hear her own heartbeat. Then all at once, the tension visibly melts off Jamie’s body like she’s exposing a new skin. “Eh, what the hell,” she says. “It’s the middle of the night, all I want is a bed to pass out on. Let’s do it.” And for a snippet of time in this crowded hotel lobby at two in the morning, Dani and Jamie are by themselves again. Only knowing how to look at each other, they ignore the eye roll exchanged between the hotel and airline workers. Less than twenty-four hours ago, they had no idea each other existed— but now they couldn’t be any less of strangers to each other if they tried.

As they board the elevator, Jamie raises an extended pinky finger. “Promise you’re not a creep?”

Dani links their fingers together, giving an exaggerated solemn nod. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”

“Oh, scout’s honor? You’re taking this not-a-creep thing very seriously,” Jamie remarks around a yawn. 

“Says the girl who— and correct me if I heard wrong— was  _ hugging  _ my  _ leg  _ in her sleep.”

The entire time, they have been gradually inching closer to each other, and now Dani is leaning fully on Jamie’s arm. She tells herself it’s only because the elevator is crowded  _ (and  _ actually functioning, unlike the last elevator they were on together). “Hey now,” Jamie protests. “Don’t make fun of my cuddle tactics. I take great pride in my skills.”

Dani tosses her head back in a laugh, and an even better thought rolls to the front of her mind. Her theory from earlier has officially been confirmed: she will  _ never  _ be too tired to laugh around Jamie. 

They step off the elevator and walk a short distance down the hallway, their shoes quiet on the plush carpet. Jamie slides the keycard in the slot, then swings the door open, and—

There’s only one bed.  _ Oh no.  _

Dani and Jamie both stand at the foot of it, all their luggage still on backs and in hands, and stare stupidly at their latest conundrum. Then Jamie says, “The universe just can’t give us a break tonight, huh, Teach?”

Dani tilts on her heels. “I— I can sleep on the armchair in the corner. It’s fine.”

Before Jamie can answer, her phone rings. She glances at the screen, groans out a curse that makes Dani’s blood dance, and answers the call. “Do you not realize what time it is here?” she says in lieu of a greeting. “And before you answer that, just because I  _ am  _ awake doesn’t mean I  _ want  _ to be awake right now.”

Dani turns away and pretends not to listen, putting most of her focus into unzipping her suitcase and digging through it to find some comfier clothes.

“Yeah, I know Stevie misses me. But she’s gonna have to hang in there, Becca, I dunno when I’ll be back... Hold on, she did  _ what?” _ A minute later, Jamie hangs up. Dani can practically feel Jamie’s smirk pressed into her back, but she doesn’t turn from sifting through her suitcase just yet. “So  _ apparently,”  _ Jamie begins, and Dani hears her voice crawl closer, “my girl back home misses me so much, she damn near turned my flat upside down.”

Hearing the name  _ Stevie  _ yet again makes something ugly flash through Dani’s heart. She tries to bite her tongue, but it’s to no avail. She stands up and spins around, unable to control the tremor in her voice when she asks, “Who exactly  _ is  _ Stevie?”  _ Please don’t say girlfriend. Please don’t say girlfriend. _

Jamie blinks at her once, then twice, her expression unreadable. Then, like a geode, her face cracks open into a brilliant smile. “Aw, Dani, don’t tell me you’re jealous of a dog.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

Instantly Dani’s shoulders drop. “She’s— Stevie is a—”

“A dog, yeah. Terrier mix, to be exact.” In a few taps, Jamie pulls up a whole photo album of pictures of a medium-sized brown-and-white mutt. She lets Dani swipe through them in awe as if she’s never seen a dog before. “She always has it in her to tear the house apart with that separation anxiety. Good for nothing but mischief, but I love her anyway.” Jamie sits down on the bed, toeing off her shoes. “I felt awful about leaving her, so I asked my friend to watch her instead of my brother— she hates Mikey, nearly bit the seat off his trousers one time.” They both laugh until a more serious look crosses Jamie’s features, but it takes Dani only a second to determine its insincerity. “I dunno, Ms. Dani, maybe you  _ should  _ be jealous. I’ve chosen her over past girlfriends a few times.”

Dani’s eyes narrow. “Okay, first of all, I was not  _ jealous.  _ I was just... curious. And second, I’m not your girlfriend, am I? So I have nothing to worry about.”

She sits next to Jamie on the bed. The rather average hotel mattress feels like luxury material after that nap in the airport seat. It dips slightly under the added weight, in a way that makes it seem like it’s pushing them closer together. Jamie opens her mouth like she’s going to respond, but instead of using words, she leans in and lifts her eyebrows in a silent plea for permission. Dani grants it wholeheartedly, all of her pent-up emotions of the past several hours rushing out in a sigh as she connects their lips. 

When they break apart, Jamie is already in the middle of a chuckle. “Fucking finally. God, Dani, I was thinking about doing that for hours.”

Dani brushes a curl behind Jamie’s ear. “I...  _ might  _ have dreamed about doing that.”

“Oh, did you?” Jamie asks. “Now do you see the powers of leg cuddling? I influenced your subconscious,” she says, wiggling her fingers dramatically. Her smirk widens further when she receives the payoff of Dani giggles. The giggles are smothered a moment later by Jamie’s mouth returning to hers, pushing her down onto the bed. Without opening her eyes, Dani tugs at her ponytail until her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and Jamie’s hands find it instantly, surfing leisurely through the blonde waves. After a minute of making out, Jamie pulls back again for only a second, nuzzling Dani while she whispers, “Y’know you don’t have to sleep in that chair, right?”

Dani smiles into the next kiss.

* * *

They pass out for a few hours, but when Jamie wakes with the sun, so does Dani. She stirs and tugs at Jamie’s sleeve, and Jamie rolls over to meet her mouth with a peppering of kisses. She then leaves a trail down Dani’s jaw, neck, and collarbone until she comes to a rest at Dani’s stomach, her cheek pressed gently into soft flesh where Dani’s shirt has ridden up.

“Mornin’,” Jamie finally grunts. Her breath comes out in hot little puffs against Dani’s skin, which tingles at the sensation.

Dani grins up at the ceiling. “That’s a little delayed, don’t you think?”

Jamie turns her head to glare up at her. “Oh sorry, did you say it first? I must’ve missed it.”

Dani sticks out her tongue at her. “Hey, I’m still waking up.” She reaches down to stroke Jamie’s curls, getting them out of her face so Dani can really see her. She thought that maybe in the daylight, her worries would get the better of her and she’d run away from this, from her. But there is nowhere else Dani would rather be right now than in this one bed in this nondescript hotel room. She had thought her heart was too full of the past to fit in anything else. But the way Dani feels about her negates all of that.

“So how did you sleep?” Jamie mumbles. The question ends in another lazy kiss pressed next to Dani’s navel.

Dani considers. “Honestly? Great. Better than I have in a long time. You?”

“Pretty great, yeah,” Jamie says, then adds after a pause, “There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.”

“Hmm. We should change that.”

“Agreed. What’s your last name?” 

Dani burrows down more into the sheets. “Clayton. What’s your middle name?”

“Amanda.” Jamie wrinkles her nose. “Coffee or tea?”

“Both are fine, but I can’t make either to save my life.” Dani thinks for a moment. “Oh, and this might be relevant in the future— I also can’t twirl pasta on a fork, like, the proper way. I just can’t do it.”

Jamie chuckles. “Well, I don’t think that’s a dealbreaker for me. My vice is that I can never win at board games. I have almost committed homicide over Monopoly and Candyland.”

“Okay, Monopoly I expect. But  _ Candyland?”  _

“I was frustrated!”

Dani grabs Jamie’s pillow and hides her face in it as her vision blurs with tears of amusement. But then she feels a hand close over hers and pull the pillow away. 

Jamie’s voice is admirably stern considering the context. “Don’t you dare muffle your laughs, Dani Clayton.”

Dani hesitates before taking the plunge. “I really like you,” she says. Jamie’s face softens. “I didn’t plan on it.”

“Does anyone plan these things?” Jamie sighs and rolls over onto her back, blindly reaching up a hand to tangle her fingers with Dani’s. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I really like you too.”

Dani exhales through a smile. “That’s good.”

She can hear Jamie’s eyes roll from the top of the bed. “As if I would say anything else.”

No longer pinned down, Dani reluctantly gets up from bed to check on the weather situation. A quick glance out the window reveals a winter wonderland that has significantly calmed down. “I think we’ll be getting out of New York today,” she announces. She turns back around to find Jamie still lying on her back, her head hanging off the bed as she gives Dani an upside-down stare.

“I can’t believe you,” Jamie says.

Dani tenses, wondering where her misstep was. “What?”

But the worry ebbs away when Jamie thrusts out her arms, making grabbing motions with her hands to beckon Dani forward. Dani obliges, melting like a popsicle in the middle of July when Jamie’s hands settle on her waist. “It’s not fair that you stole my heart,” Jamie complains. “It’s kind of rude, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani says.

“Don’t be.” Jamie presses her forehead into Dani’s thigh. “I didn’t need it anyway. You can keep it.”

They stay there in silence for a while, held in an embrace that Dani thinks would be awkward with any other person on the planet besides Jamie. Then she sits down on the bed again, not once breaking their touch.

“By the way,” Dani says thoughtfully, watching the post-dawn sun filter through the thin curtains and twirl through Jamie’s hair. “I never asked you where you’re going.”

Jamie squints up at her. She’s an entirely different person from the version Dani witnessed at the help desk all those hours ago. “Take a wild guess, Teach.”

Without a word, Dani retrieves her phone from the nightstand and pulls up her updated boarding pass. She holds the device so Jamie can read it:  _ New York-JFK to London Heathrow.  _

“Who the hell knew?” Jamie murmurs. “S’pose we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Dani only comprehends half of what she says, but it’s enough. She tosses the phone over her shoulder, her lips finding Jamie’s again as if they never separated. It’s this kiss, the first of many more, that makes Dani’s heart take flight.


End file.
